"Low."
"Umm, I wouldn't want you kicked in the groin. Help me lay him flat, Gabriel."
Storni knelt in the dirt and together they made Little Tomás more comfortable. They removed his sandals and explored the injured leg; the break was obvious.
"Let's take him to my place," said Gabriel.
"Where do you want him?" asked Salvador, and bending over he gathered Tomás as if he were a child.
Tomás began to whimper.
"No, no ... take me to my hut," Tomás begged. "Patrón ... por favor."
"It's closer," said Raul. "Take him to his own place."
It made no difference to Salvador; he said something cheery and swaggered out of the stall and across the stable yard to the row of huts built recently. Tomás and a friend shared a hut. Salvador laid him on a straw mat, just as he would set down pottery. The man-length space had no furnishings, but Tomás' macaw wabbled in and climbed onto his arm and, when Raul scared off the parrot, it squatted in a corner and clicked its beak peevishly.
"I'll go for Velasco," said Gabriel. "I'll get him here as soon as I can, Tomás."